It was written by my own sister. Hear, hear.
Personal Recount: Describe the time when you spent a holiday away from your own home.
Michell Wijaya (21) 4SE
‘Flight crew, prepare for landing’, the Captain’s voice boom in the aircraft. Strapping the safety belt neatly around my waist, I could not help but broke into a grin. We caught one another’s eyes, and I was certain my excitement had spread to my parents seating on my left. We had finally reached our long-awaited destination, Melbourne, after seven hours of tedious flight.
It had been years since my last visit to Australia. The six-years-old me practically could not recall anything from the trip except for the fact that the sausages in Gold coast was scrumptious, and how I could not express my gratitude to the tour guide who generously offered me a second helping. Aside from that simple pleasure, the remains of my memories was already displaced by Biology facts, Chemistry notes and Physics formulae. It was June 2007, and I was thankful for the long resting period provided to my overworked brain.
I huddled gratefully into the warmth of my woolen jacket, in an attempt to avoid the cold chills sent down my spine with every opening of the airport’s sliding doors. It was winter, and despite the absence of snow, the uncontrollable chattering of my teeth proved otherwise. As I waited impatiently for my parents to complete the arrival procedures, I tried to catch a glimpse of the crowd gathering outside the arrival gates. The faces there were all of similar expressions – happy, glad and anxious to meet their loved ones. And yet, nothing. In exasperation, I was to the point of stretching my calves so badly in the process of tip toeing that I believe the sore would not go away for a few days. And from the corner of my eyes, I saw the familiar face I longed to see – my brother. Two years ago at my age, he had bravely left Singapore to further his studies in a foreign country.
He still maintained his cheerful disposition, his bronze skin seemingly to have lost its glow due to Australia’s four season’s climate. My mom hugged him affectionately, as though she was afraid he would leave her side once again. She commented on his diminishing frame when he still looked the same to me – an exaggeration perhaps triggered by motherly love. My brother and I exchanged glances, the mischievous twinkle in his eye which never failed to make me smile. I realized how much I had missed him, despite the annoying quarrels we used to have in our early adolescence.
My brother had taken off his school hours to fetch us, a sacrifice he was nonetheless happy to make. A shiny Mercedes Benz greeted us extravagantly in the car park, a birthday gift given by my father which he had taken pride and care of. Along the way, my brother took on the role as our personal tour guide. I saw many breathtaking views of Melbourne – little cottage houses furnished with chimneys and complimented by the blooming flowers in the garden, small children chasing each other gleefully under the strict scrutiny of their parents, and of course, Winter had cast its spells on the once evergreen trees, causing them to lose their leafy covers. I even managed to pick out a few street signs out of fascination, and realized the comical names they had been given. Some examples were Blueberry Street, Bacon Drive and Love Lander. My brother remarked casually that it was just how Australians applied their unique sense of humor.
It was 9am in the early morning, and our grumbling stomachs soon gave us away. My brother proposed to take us to a Western Cafeteria which was recognized for its famous waffles, a refreshing change to the normal Chinese cuisines we were once exposed to. I was initially disappointed at the absence of my favorite Gold coast sausages, which of course turned into a joke after I blatantly expressed my cravings. I ordered the house specialty of buttered waffles drizzled with strawberry syrup and topped with a scoop of vanilla cream – they called it Berry Burst – together with a plate of curry rice due to my extreme hunger. The food was served in the short moments of 5 minutes to our gratitude, but the humongous portions literally scared me. The rice provided on the enormous plates were double that Singapore restaurants served, and the mutton in the curry would easily amount to heavy kilograms. It was also costly, and my brother expressed his pains to this. He thus resorted to consuming a daily staple of sushi, since it was a mere $2 for a long piece and was filling. My mother got into her naggy mood and reprimanded him for scrimping again, and we broke into a chuckle.
Over the spread of the next few days, I was brought closer to Australian culture. Despite it being a Western dominated country, the distribution of races there were nevertheless equal. Chinese characterized by their yellow skin and dark hair roamed the streets, giving me a sense of security and warmth like I feel back home. It thus dawned on me that many overseas students prefer to settle in Australia, perhaps due to its rich entertainment and nearer location to the Asian region as compared to other countries like America. The Australian parents were less stringent of their infants in terms of cleanliness than the Chinese, allowing their children of tender age to crawl around on the soft ground of the parks. My parents would never have given permission for us to do so, expressing their unhappiness at our soiled clothes and the possibilities of contracting germs the grounds were rich in after a play.
Time passed like an unstoppable running tap, and on Thursday the second week, it was time to part. My brother waited to send us first before heading off to school, but my father chose to order a cab instead since taking the car would consume too much time. With our luggage fully loaded, we were to drop my brother off before continuing our journey to the airport. Along the way were those sceneries I saw when we first arrived - but this time my mood was different. I found no fascination at pursuing my observations of this foreign culture and avoided looking into my brother’s eyes, staring blankly outside the window instead. I was on the verge of crying. My brother told us of his experiences in Australia, but I found it extremely hard to concentrate on the conversation in my emotional state. When it was finally time for him to get off for school, we exchanged our last glances. The tears then started rolling down my pale cheeks. It was painful. It was tough. I watched his back walking slowly into the school building in a dreamlike quality, and could not help but to let out a scream for him to turn back.
And as though he heard me, he turned his head. The grin once again formed on his face, a very warm one to my heart.
I miss him.
P.S - Sorry but i just couldn't be bothered by re-writing the essay, copy-pasting is so damn useful. Oh and you know the fact that all essays must be exaggerated, the shiny mercedez benz is one of them.
Find her in Singapore Chinese Girls School if you want, get her autograph or something - though she's no JK rowling - though i don't like Harry Potter that much - well, shucks.
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